


A Second Chance

by percabethica



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Resistance AU, kronos won, there is some annabeth/luke but it's NOT romanticised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percabethica/pseuds/percabethica
Summary: “Uh. Someone’s been found, my Lord. On the bank of the Hudson.”After the explosion on Mt St Helens, Percy Jackson never reappeared, and everything changed forever. Annabeth joined Luke, the Titan army took Manhattan, and the process of forging a new world began. That is, until five years later, when Percy Jackson magically reappears, and all of a sudden Annabeth is thrown into a double life of secret resistance movements and tiptoeing around the Lord of Time.Big thanks to eudaimmonia on ao3 / bitcheusjackson on tumblr for your help <3
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan/Annabeth Chase
Comments: 24
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

Annabeth knocked on the door tentatively, nervously, the heavy oak cold and firm against her knuckles. A beat of silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Then, after a moment, it began to open for her, allowing her into the study.

Everything was her design, of course, the door included. Nobody had opened it for her, but she had been granted non-verbal permission to enter by the room’s inhabitant, and the door responded appropriately. It was one of the many small things she had been able to create, a tiny pocket of ingenuity. Unwanted guests and rude interruptions were a thing of the long-forgotten past.

The glint of celestial bronze and its faint glow provided most of the light for the room - an old armour set lay dusty yet luminous in the corner, and swords of varying lengths and styles were scattered across wall hangings and left on the floor. Other than that, a two-pronged candlestick lit the ornate desk, at which the inhabitant of the room was sitting at, quietly working over a book.

Annabeth didn’t know which one she was dealing with, yet.

He didn’t look up at her arrival, but that still wasn’t indicative of who it was - he ignored her often. She cleared her throat, and after receiving no response, summoned her voice.

“Lord?”

That was the safest bet, even though disrupting the seemingly-sacred silence of the room felt completely wrong. Still, he lifted his head, and Annabeth studied him. He was still handsomely built and strong, especially in the low light. Most importantly, though, his eyes were blue.

“Luke,” She confirmed, relief flooding through her. 

Luke set down his pen and smiled gently, beckoning her closer. With a much more relaxed, happy expression, she made her way over, pushing through the strewn papers and books to perch in his lap. He took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted it, leaning in to kiss her.

“Annabeth. You need something?”

She smiled gently. “Just wanted to let you know I finished the designs for that arena you wanted. Construction can start as soon as you say the word.”

“Perfect.” He kissed her cheek, and she let out a nervous breath. “Remind me why I let you talk me out of making a human arena, too?”

“We already have gladiators for entertainment,” Annabeth told him, her stomach twisting. “No killing, just fighting. And the mortals have done nothing to us, so why should we do anything to them?”

Luke growled, and she tensed, but as it seemed playful more than anything, she let herself relax. He rested his hand on her thigh and squeezed affectionately.

“And because you love me.” She added, her voice quiet, trying to inject a hint of teasing flirtiness to it. The words came out with more conviction than she really had in them, because she was starting to wonder how he really did feel about her. Sometimes love made sense, other times she wondered if she even knew what that word meant anymore.

“That I do.” Luke agreed.

They fell silent; it wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy and quiet, a sort of limbo between two feelings that couldn’t communicate. Annabeth was as still as a statue, afraid to move or speak in case the delicate balance was disrupted. Before she could even begin to ruin it, Luke tensed suddenly beneath her, and she became all too aware of the change. She slid off his lap and turned to face him.

Golden eyes.

“The door.” Kronos rasped. Annabeth swallowed as it swung open, hot tears threatening to spring from her eyes, the lump in her throat burning all the way down. She was stronger than this and she knew it, fighting down the swell of emotion and reforming her usual mask. 

A demigod entered the room - Kronos didn’t know the name, of course, but Annabeth did. He was nineteen or so, a couple of years younger than Annabeth, but barely looked older than sixteen - he was a son of Hebe, if she remembered correctly, not that they were allowed to identify themselves by godly parents anymore. Demigod was as far as it went, but Annabeth had never stuck with Luke’s rules as rigidly as she was expected to. Joey was slight and baby-faced, not much more than a lanky kid in ill-fitting armour.

He nodded respectfully at them both. After all, Annabeth was the second-in-command in their brand new world, and deserving of the appropriate treatment. She, at least, responded with the same respect that her honouring felt earned, unlike Kronos or even Luke. Whichever he was, at any given point, he didn’t really feel it necessary to interact with people the way Annabeth did.

“State your business.” Kronos instructed.

Joey faltered for a couple of seconds, tongue-tied. Annabeth understood it. Even she wasn’t used to the Titan’s presence, even when it was in Luke’s body. Twenty one years old, and it still ignited a fear deep down in her stomach, one that she found herself constantly, almost unconsciously, suppressing.

“Uh. Someone’s been found, my Lord. On the bank of the Hudson.”

Annabeth blinked. “Any idea who?”

He looked intensely uncomfortable. “My Lord - uh, Lord Kronos, sir, I- Our best people are on it.”

“Who could possibly be such an exciting find that you feel the need to barge in to my space?” Kronos interrupted, his voice ancient and stern.

Joey looked like he was about to pass out. “Well, you see, my Lord… I, well… _Please don’t hurt me._ It’s, uh…”

Then the world crashed down at Annabeth’s feet.

“It’s Percy Jackson.”

-

Five fucking years. Five fucking years Annabeth had been living with the knowledge that Percy Jackson was dead. Because Percy Jackson _was_ dead. Because even the strongest, kindest and bravest of heroes didn’t survive volcanic blasts at six feet away, coupled with the strength of Typhon, who required twelve Olympian gods in order to be defeated. Nobody, not even Percy Jackson, could survive that horrific combination, and she had made her peace with his tragic, heartbreaking death five fucking years ago.

That wasn’t strictly true. As far as making peace with his death… Annabeth had done the opposite. She spiralled, because the one good thing in her life had been ripped out of her hands and she hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. It was a shared kiss in a fleeting moment, an explosion, and no body recovered. It was a shroud in an empty grave, with nothing to wrap up. It was fleeing her home in the middle of the night, because there was no hope of winning now that Percy was gone.

And she’d been right, because Camp Half-Blood had lost. The place was razed to the ground as Kronos’ first order - all of the cabins smashed to bits, the pavilion wiped out, the ground torched. Nothing remained, because the Titans had taken New York, because _the half blood of the eldest gods_ was blown into pieces. 

Annabeth had fallen into Luke’s arms when all else failed her, but even he hadn’t been enough. Their relationship was rocky, uneven, shaky - at twenty one, she was only just realising how much control he’d had over her, without even trying. He’d never forced her into anything, and every bit of love she bestowed on him was her own, but if he had told her to jump, she’d simply ask how high. She was blind to him, and perhaps the feeling of walking on eggshells shouldn’t have accompanied the concept of love in her mind.

A lot had changed since Percy’s death.

As she walked down the dark corridor, Luke a few steps behind her, Annabeth felt powerful, and strangely invigorated for reasons she was reluctant to explore. The guards all smiled as she passed them, freezing up again once Luke came. The air around them grew colder the further along they got, but Annabeth shook off the chill. Their guide, a strong-willed _empousa_ named Megan, explained as much as she could.

“Yeah, so he was apparently passed out on the banks when they found him. They took him in here, we had him put in maximum security just in case.”

She turned to Luke for approval. He shrugged, which she took as a sign of approval, and smiled competitively in Annabeth’s direction. Naturally, every _empousa_ wanted Luke, and by proxy, they hated Annabeth. If only they knew.

“That’s a good idea,” Annabeth told her anyway, hoping to appease the monster. “Better to be safe than sorry. If the gods can’t escape from these prisons, _he_ certainly can’t.”

Megan looked pleased with herself. “My thoughts exactly. Here he is, ma’am. My Lord.”

She stopped in front of what looked like a towering, obsidian brick wall. Annabeth placed her hand in the middle and the rocks glowed, the cracks illuminating in electric blue, before it began to grind and slowly part to reveal an entrance. Megan waited outside as Annabeth and Luke went in, another guard nodding at their arrival.

It was all so simple until it wasn’t. Magical architecture and technology aside, it was just a cell. Tall, thin bars, bare-bone necessities, shackles. The complication only came from the fact that, true to Joey’s word, Percy Jackson was inside.

He had changed - of course, it’d been five years, Annabeth had changed too. He was taller, leaner, stronger even in his chains. His features seemed carved from marble, perfectly sculpted, except for the grounding familiarity that he was human, and full of life. His mahogany skin was dimpled around the cheeks, marked from his troublemaker smile, and his black curls had grown longer and more rugged than Annabeth had ever seen him. 

Above it all, the eyes were the same. Seafoam green, bright, sparkling with vivacity. Even imprisoned, there was something so _Percy_ about him that just couldn’t be taken away.

Five years, and they were still her favourite colour.

“Jackson.” She addressed him coldly. 

He flashed her a grin, which she ignored. His face fell.

Luke smirked. “Ah, Percy. Long time no see, cousin. Where have you been all these years?”

“Lost,” He shrugged. “Landed in the ocean, went to Ogygia, didn’t stay long because Calypso got sick of me, tried to make my way home. Somehow a good couple of years passed and I ended up here. Guess you were right all along, Castellan.”

“Indeed.” Luke responded. “Our patrol said you washed up on the Hudson, passed out.”

Percy pulled a face. “Ew, I’m definitely gonna have some kind of weird poisoning if that’s the case. Gross.”

Luke seemed unimpressed. Annabeth took over. “And the last thing you remember is leaving Ogygia? You just washed up?”

Every fibre of her being wanted to burst into tears at his expression - utmost betrayal, pain so visceral she couldn’t bear to look at him. She forced herself to remain stoic, lowering her shoulders and lifting her chin, her jaw clenched tight to prevent it from shaking. There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice as he replied, “That’s it. I don’t remember anything else.”

“Well, well, you’ve lost your fight, Jackson. You used to be more fun to argue with,” Luke taunted, a glint in his - thankfully blue - eyes. “I suppose losing is a damper to the spirits.”

Percy didn’t respond. His eyes hit the floor, zeroing in on a scuff on his shackles and remaining there. Annabeth’s heart broke.

Luke turned to leave. “I think he’s fine for now. I don’t want to waste any more time on him.”

She seized the opportunity. “Luke? Darling? A- A moment alone, if you don’t mind. He used to be my friend, he deserves at least some closure.”

“Knock yourself out. I’ll be in my study - don’t bother me. Megan, come.”

The wall sealed itself behind him. Annabeth all but ran towards the bars, clutching them with both fists, and fell to her knees.

“I thought you were dead. Mount St Helens, you died, you-”

Percy smiled, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. “I knew it. I knew you were still in there. You had me fooled for a minute, Annabeth.”

All at once, the sobs seemed to rise and swell, a crescendo of waves on a beach crashing into the shore. Her crying was unabashed, her emotions finally not needing a filter or a mask in front of them. Percy was here, and Percy was alive, and Annabeth could spend the rest of her days weeping tears of joy from that knowledge alone.

“Hey, hey,” His voice was impossibly soft. “Annabeth, hey. You’re okay, we’re okay. I’m here. I’m alive. You’re alive.”

Too many words tried to escape from her lips, coming out in a confusing jumble of complex emotion and juddering breaths. How could she face him after what she’d done in his absence? How could she prove everyone right that she really was nothing without him, weak enough to fall into the traps of a jaded demigod and a manipulative Titan all because Percy had disappeared?

All the while, as she battled with herself, she was aware of Percy murmuring to her, his voice a low, comforting rumble amidst the chaos of her thoughts. Trying her best to slow the panicked breaths, she focused in on the familiar sound and blocked out the rest, eventually slowing to deep, heavy breaths and silent tears.

It was a little embarrassing, but Annabeth had always been a crier. Percy knew that, and he’d never judged her for it.

“You’re really alive,” She breathed, her eyes still glistening. “It’s you.”

He nodded. “It’s me. Seaweed Brain.”

The old nickname set her off again, a fresh set of tears welling in her eyes. Percy laughed good-naturedly, not mocking her, and reached forwards as far as he could to brush against her fingers.

“Gods, Percy, I don’t even know where to begin. I just-”

He cut her off, shaking his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand. The others filled me in on what I missed, I know the choices you had to make. I don’t blame you.”

It was bizarre how he always knew what to say - he seemed to have grown out of that Seaweed Brain-ishness that she’d labelled him with when they were kids. Something in him just knew her internal conflicts, and how best to put them at rest.

Truthfully, she was ashamed of herself. It had started the day she’d fled, when she pledged herself to Luke - not Kronos - and fought for the opposition. Her mission was of creation, rebuilding, improving, just as she’d always dreamed, and later minimising the damages that Luke’s wrath yearned for. It was by Annabeth’s doing that the mortals of the world still existed, day to day, as normal, by her pleading and lectures of art and culture that would be lost without them. The new world was impressive to behold and invisible to mortals, a sort of compromise between two, because of her. 

But her achievements felt shallow and performative in front of Percy, someone who she knew was willing to lay down his life just for a friend. She’d tried to opt for the lesser of two evils in her position as second-in-command, but that didn’t mean her choices weren’t evil.

Luke never understood that side of Annabeth. He had once, maybe, but not in the last seven years at least. She thought she loved him, but as it turned out, a lot of her thoughts were just wrong.

“The others… Are they okay? How many? What can I-”

Percy interrupted again. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, so I’ll be quick about this, alright? I washed up about two months ago now, and our favourite Daughter of Ares found me. The survivors have formed a resistance movement, but we all know it’ll be nothing without you. We don’t have enough power without your influence. I was planted for your guards to find so that we could get to you, and you can join us. We figured you’d be able to work out a plan to bust out.”

Annabeth felt like fainting. It was a lot to take in on just one day, and her head was spinning. She forced herself to concentrate, then let out a long, slow breath.

“I’m in.” It came out before she could even think about it, but it felt right. “Listen, give me a day or two to think about how this is gonna work, and I’ll come back with a skeleton of a plan. Then we wait, we execute it, and we get out of here.”

Something unreadable, but undeniably soft, crossed Percy’s face. “We?”

She reached her arm through the cell bars, locking fingers with him. “We. For this to work, we have to do it together.”

Standing up, she dusted herself off and cleared her throat. “I should go. I’ll come back.”

She was almost to the exit, her hand hovering against the wall, when Percy spoke again. “Do you love him?”

The name wasn’t necessary. His image was everywhere in both of their minds, tainting the reunion with something heavy and unspoken. Possibly even worse was the response that tumbled from Annabeth’s lips beyond her control, a deep and instinctive answer that she wasn’t even aware of.

“No.”

A million excuses scrambled to mind - that she had, but didn’t anymore, that it was complicated, that he loved her and he was like family, that they had always been a little strained. Instead, her brain zeroed in on the glaring red flag hidden in the corner: _you were manipulated by him._ It was terrifying, too much for one day.

She turned and left without another word.

-

Annabeth didn’t sleep for two nights.

The first night, she was still reeling from the fact that Percy was alive after all those years, and that in just a few minutes of talking, she’d agreed to join the resistance with him. He always had that effect on her, though, this intrinsic trust that they shared within the bonds of a tightly-knitted friendship. He trusted her judgement unfailingly, and she knew that his heart always led him in the right direction, and knew deep down she’d follow him anywhere.

Those thoughts kept her awake, giddy and excitable as they were.

The second night, the anxiety crept in. Or terror, really, though she hated having to admit even to herself that _that_ was what it was. She was completely and utterly terrified, riddled with emotions she had forcibly repressed for years, suddenly having to face consequences she had always hoped to avoid.

Joining a resistance was scary enough, but she’d done it before - before she’d abandoned them for Luke in the wake of Percy’s disappearance. But now, aside from an even more dangerous betrayal, for the first time in five years, Annabeth had to own up to what she’d done to a group of people she’d thought she would never see again.

It was strange, really. A part of her had always known there were survivors after the battle in Manhattan. Some stragglers joined Luke at the end, some lives were lost, and others were driven out, fighting until the end and then going into hiding. Annabeth knew it, and had been careful, even unconsciously, to avoid anyone delegated to her command finding them. They were a secret that she allowed to stay untouched as she tried to redesign the city, a quiet nagging guilt she’d learned to ignore.

They were going to hate her.

Luke shifted next to her, fast asleep and oblivious to her worries, naturally. He didn’t often call Annabeth into his room, or ask her to stay, but she couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever refused him. He just slept on as she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, plagued with an uncomfortable sickness. Most of it was directed at herself.

Resigned to her sleepless fate, Annabeth got up and slowly dressed, cautious not to make a sound and risk waking Luke, not that it mattered much. She had no idea what she was even doing, no plan on how to push down the self-loathing and reignite herself, but she found her legs were carrying her to where she subconsciously wanted to be. The prison loomed closer and closer as the bubbles of fear in her stomach seemed to grow, but upon realising the five-minute window of guards changing over their schedules was just approaching, Annabeth pressed her hand to the wall and slipped into the cell unnoticed.

Percy was asleep, too, stretched out on the ground with his head tilted to the side. If only for a moment, her anxieties seemed to melt; he still drooled in his sleep, and that alone was enough to remind her that he really was here, alive, back in her world.

His slumber was much lighter than Luke’s, and his eyes fluttered open as Annabeth shuffled closer, sitting cross-legged in front of the cell bars and tugging her robe tighter over herself to fight the desolate cold. He offered her a sleepy smile, lopsided and gentle, and steadily pulled himself into a sitting position.

“Everything okay?” Percy’s voice was thick with sleep, rougher and lower than she was used to hearing it. It was nice, a warm, comforting sound that could’ve lulled her to sleep if not for the fear keeping her awake.

Annabeth swallowed and nodded unconvincingly. “I just needed to see you, I think.”

“That’s alright. I’m here for you, remember. Uh, physically and emotionally.”

They chuckled quietly, operating on an unspoken agreement to not disturb the stillness of the night too much. Annabeth had no idea of the time, but everything was black and cold, and that was indicative enough.

“There’s two ways we can do it, Percy. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since we talked, I haven’t slept at all, I-”

Percy wrapped his hand over hers, their fingers meeting through the bars. “I can tell, Beth. In the nicest way possible, you don’t look so good.”

Annabeth breathed a laugh again. “Wow. Here I am helping you, and you insult my looks.”

He grinned. “Nah. You just have that frantic planning look you always get. Your eyes get all wild and scrunched and your brows are always arched and you bite your lips a lot. Yours are torn to shreds.”

Everything he said was true. Luke had complained, four hours earlier, that kissing her had been like rubbing against sandpaper, and had decided to forego that part completely. She pushed down the memory and focused her attention on Percy, who at least seemed to care about her obvious anxiety.

“I’m nervous,” She admitted, pointlessly.

Percy nodded. “I am too. No shame in it. Besides, I know that you being nervous means that you’ve probably made a pros and cons list for each of the ways we could do this, and I’m all ears. Talk through your worries on someone who wants to listen.”

She wasn’t sure why _someone who wants to listen_ stabbed her so deeply, but it did. Had Luke ever wanted to listen to her? In the last five years, had he ever listened out of his own desire, rather than the incentive of something gained?

It was too late at night to start thinking like that. Annabeth forced her mind to reset. “My initial idea was a secret mission. Give me, say, two months, and I’ll gather as much support as I can from the demigods and nymphs that I know for sure would follow me over Luke. Then we sneak away at the dead of night to the resistance base, we’ll have intel from my sources here, and we can plan an attack with increased numbers. I’ll be missing sure, but they’ll think it’s just you and me.”

Percy listened intently. “How many do you think you can get? What sort of numbers are we looking at?”

Annabeth bit her lip, then stopped when Percy made a face. “A little over a hundred? Maybe? I mean, anytime an unclaimed demigod pops up somewhere, our guys tend to find them first so they join us. Somewhere around there, factoring in those who joined and those we found.”

Percy whistled. “Shit, nice. Our numbers are a lot lower than that. Including the Huntresses, we have…” He thought for a moment. “Forty eight, I think.”

“That’s not bad,” Annabeth told him, torn in two minds. It was larger than she’d expected, but still hopelessly small - back before her betrayal, they had been planning to try and defend an entire city with maybe forty campers total. “I know you didn’t see it, but there was a little over that amount in the Battle of Manhattan, and they almost did it. They fought incredibly well. Our chances will be even better with these increased numbers.”

“Right.” Percy smiled, like he was proud of them. “They’re all amazing, and they work stupidly hard.”

Annabeth paused. “Or we take the offence. Same deal, I gather support, but then we bust out. Take out as many monsters as we can on the way out, then the entire team joins us and we get back to the resistance base _with_ all the extra people. I’m less inclined to this one, but it does have its advantages.”

Percy nodded slowly. “Taking out a big chunk of Luke’s army would be real nice. Makes the primary battle easier if we take out some of them in a secondary attack.”

“Exactly.” Annabeth agreed. “The problem is, that way, they’re immediately onto us. There’s a chance they’ll find someone who’ll end up leading them to the base, for example. Or we lose numbers in the attack and get put at a disadvantage. I’ll kill monsters and Titans, but I won’t kill demigods.”

“Me neither.” Percy swore. “So you’re saying it’s more risky, but we could potentially have the benefit of a more balanced fight in the end, which could swing in our favour.”

She squeezed his hand. “First plan seems safer. We can bide our time, plan attacks from the inside and outside, weaken their defences to strengthen ours. I think secrecy is our biggest advantage, because Luke doesn’t know you guys are still around.”

“You always have the best plans, Annabeth. If you say go with your gut and do the first plan, that’s what we’ll do. I trust you completely, okay?”

Before she could lose her nerve, Annabeth leaned forwards and kissed Percy’s hand, wrapped around her own, and squeezed it three times. His other hand came up to meet it, their eyes locking for a few quiet moments. An understanding passed between them, something even Annabeth couldn’t consciously describe. A sort of calm descended.

This was arguably the most dangerous thing she was ever going to do. Betraying a ruling Titan, turning his people against him, operating a secret mission within a resistance movement hidden somewhere in the city. She knew that her status wasn’t enough to protect her, and if she got found out, Luke wouldn’t hesitate to have her killed. In fact, at every turn was the risk of losing her life, in every battle at every stage of their plan. As soon as she began, she would never be safe again. A painful death and a sword at her neck waited around every single corner.

One look at Percy behind the cell bars was enough for her to know she’d risk anything and everything to be on the same team as him again.

A feeling of more than five years repressed was still very much alive and burning inside her. Annabeth didn’t name it. She didn’t have to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a sexual implication in this chapter but I want to be clear that it's not explicit because I don't want to write Annabeth/Luke and although it's reluctant, there's nothing non-con or gross about this because... that's not cute. Just to be clear.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

Two months passed in a blur of identical days that meshed into one. Every morning, Annabeth rose early and oversaw whatever needed doing, an attempt to create a semblance of normalcy amidst the tempest she’d been thrown into. She looked over construction projects, supervised labour, pored over blueprints and sketches until her head couldn’t take it anymore. Once she’d been suitably occupied, and she was sure that people had seen her working, she slowly made her way around to different groups, talking in secret. 

A small part of her felt like she was betraying Luke, and the trust he had put in her. He’d taken her in when her entire world had collapsed, and in a way, reminded her that she would always have the family that he had promised her all those years ago. He’d sheltered her from the cold when she was seven years old, and he dried her tears at fifteen.

Then again… did he care? Annabeth’s internal debate was ongoing and exhausting - she chose to ignore it as often as she could, but as inconvenient as her ADHD was, the thoughts kept circling back.

In the meantime, she tried to focus on Percy. When she compared the two of them, some of the differences seemed jarringly obvious, to the point that she felt stupid for being so filled with doubt. With Luke, she scrambled to list good things he’d done, ways he’d shown that he cared about her. With Percy, she hardly had to think about it. Percy never needed justification.

Still, she was resolute. However she felt about Luke, the niggling doubt and resurgence of red flags that she’d been ignoring were enough to spur her on, and she was committed to helping the resistance. She had to redeem herself somehow.

It was easiest to start with people in a similar situation to Annabeth - demigods who had chosen to leave Camp Half-Blood to work for Kronos. They were most likely to understand her, she hoped, and most likely to start seeing through the guise of freedom and power that they’d all been promised.

“Hey, Lacy. You busy?”

Lacy looked up at Annabeth and smiled brightly. She was a pretty girl - sixteen, if Annabeth’s math was right - and a Daughter of Aphrodite. She’d joined Luke when she was only a kid, and she seemed as good a person as any to begin with. Her nature was sweet and kind, and whilst Annabeth knew she could fight, she’d never seen the young girl use her skill on anyone.

“Not too busy for you.” She beamed, setting down the papers in front of her and gesturing towards them. “I’m supposed to be doing costumes and makeup for a play about the battle in Manhattan. Real stimulating work.”

The thought made Annabeth sick, but she forced a mocking smile. “What the fuck? That’s insane, I’ll happily distract you. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Immediately, Lacy perked up. “Oh my Gods- uh, OM… T? Whatever Luke or Kronos says. Are those rumours true?” She cupped the side of her mouth with her hand, her eyes widened, as if they weren’t the only two people in the room. “ _Is Percy Jackson really alive?_ ”

Annabeth laughed uncomfortably. “Uh… yeah, Lace, he is. That’s what I need to talk about.”

Ever in the spirit of Aphrodite, she sucked in a huge gasp. “Oh my Gods, you love him! _Shit,_ shit, sorry, my _mouth_. I didn’t mean to say that. But you do, right? Or you did? Or?”

“I…” Annabeth chose her words carefully. “We were good friends, a long time ago. Everything is pretty complicated now.”

“Right, right,” Lacy looked sympathetic, reaching out to clasp Annabeth’s hand. “And you’re seeing Luke, I’m sorry. I should control myself a little more.”

Annabeth coughed. “Let’s not get into that mess,” She replied on instinct, then her hands flew to her mouth. “Fuck, Lacy, you’re rubbing off on me. Like I said, complicated. Anyway, we’re off track again. I was wondering…” She took a deep breath, praying she wouldn’t fuck anything up. “Do you ever regret joining Luke?”

Lacy’s face changed; she grew thoughtful, her eyebrows furrowing, her tongue poking out ever-so-slightly as she considered Annabeth’s words. Her pensive expression and her position at the desk, paper and pencils askew and rubber shavings covering the surface, made her look like a regular high-school student in the midst of some difficult homework. It struck Annabeth that she _should’ve_ been a regular high-school student, and that had been completely taken from her. Sure, she’d been educated, but Lacy had grown up in a ‘new world’ where, at sixteen, she was commemorating a battle victory that she probably had very little understanding of, instead of living the lives they expected they would.

Luke or Kronos or _both_ had manipulated terrifying amounts of young people.

In the end, she shrugged. “I was a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was scared that we were gonna have to go to war, and Luke kept saying that we didn’t have to fight our parent’s wars and that it wasn’t fair. I just went home, y’know? I’m not super powerful or anything, I just left camp and went back to my family for a couple of years, no biggie. Eventually he sought me out, cited Silena as part of his team, and promised I would be safe on his side. I trusted him and I adored Silena, so I agreed. I was ten, I didn’t understand a lot of it.”

She sighed. “And then Silena ditched, and like, good for her, right? But I kinda don’t know anything else, and I guess I’m not complaining. I always liked you. And I never knew Percy very well, only the stories. You guys were usually off on quests when I was at camp, and I was so much younger, so I guess I’d never gotten that same admiration.”

Annabeth blinked away tears, refusing to confront the reality of her emotions. “Gods, Lacy, I hate that. I forget you were such a little kid. You were what, eight when this started?”

She laughed mirthlessly, her good mood ruined, which Annabeth internally berated herself for. “Yeah, eight. When all the bolt stuff happened, I don’t know much about it. I stayed with my parents year round after that summer until I was ten, and then they came to me. I fought when I was twelve, mostly just running messages though. Quick and small, easy to weave through places unnoticed. Didn’t make it into the play.”

She lifted another, thicker stack of papers in front of her, a sarcasm beyond her years in her expression. “My role was a little too small, I guess. You made it in, though.”

“I did?” Annabeth eyed the script with disdain. “Ugh. How bad is it, can I see?”

Lacy handed it over. “Sure, I don’t care. I think a few nymphs and smaller gods wrote it, a couple of demigods too.”

She skimmed the papers, thankful for the Ancient Greek text meaning she could read quickly and accurately. It was very reminiscent of texts she’d studied over the years, plays about long-dead heroes and their great victories, ugly details undoubtedly glossed over into non-existence. There were a few moments where minor characters commented on Annabeth’s battle strategies or complimented her fighting technique, but not much until the climax. She visibly cringed, stiffening as she skimmed through a portion about an old wound, a section of the fight, and a narrative that was decidedly untrue.

She scoffed and tossed it onto the desk. “Have you read this shit? Look at that.”

Lacy skimmed the page, a little concerned by Annabeth’s change of pace. She tried to keep her emotions in check, reminding herself that she needed to be calm and logical if she was going to convince anyone to join her leadership over Luke, but the stupid unimportant words in the stupid unimportant play had riled her up too much for rationality. She wanted to laugh, if only to hide the derisive hurt bubbling in her throat.

“Huh.” Lacy read aloud. “ _A demigod stabs Annabeth, who falls to the ground. Luke notices and kills the demigod who stabbed her, rushing her to safety as soon as possible. The enemy are driven back by the Titan army forces._ ”

Annabeth shook her head. She hadn’t noticed until Lacy had verbalised the words, but she was shaking - her hands trembling, her knees wobbly, her whole body vibrating with an immeasurable fury and upset. She wasn’t even sure there was a word to describe the emotion flooding her.

“That’s not how it happened.” She said darkly, her voice low and quiet, and horribly weaker than she wanted it to be. “Not even close.”

Her shoulder ached anew, the pain as fresh and searing as it had been four years ago in the middle of Manhattan. Lacy’s kind eyes and concerned expression faded, morphing into a face she’d tried to forget out of sheer guilt.

_“You!”_

_Annabeth whirled around, instantly on her guard, her knife gripped tightly in her hand. She was met with a bizarrely terrifying sight - none other than Clarisse La Rue herself, her spear aloft and crackling with electricity, a red glow emanating from her._

_Every part of her radiated pure fury and strength, and she wasted no time in lunging forwards. Annabeth blocked her strike and parried, trying to swipe somewhere that might push the daughter of Ares back without harming her too much. It didn’t matter, anyway; the red glow seemed to protect her, and her adrenaline kept her going with little regard for herself._

_They were equally matched, mostly, what with their identical training from years at camp. Clarisse was ferocious, a whirlwind of forceful attacks and always on the offense, but Annabeth had studied her strategies well and had taken fighters like Clarisse before. The last thing she wanted was for her to die, or even be seriously injured in the fight, but she needed to protect herself._

_“Clarisse!” She yelled, lifting her shield to block another jab. “It doesn’t have to be like this, please! We don’t have to fight!”_

_Clarisse snarled, the glint in her eyes akin to a predator in the wild. “Fuck you, traitor! We’ll fight until one of us fucking dies, and it won’t be me!”_

_She whacked Annabeth squarely in the chest with the edge of her spear. Her armour absorbed most of the hit, but the force still sent her flying backwards, crashing to the ground and knocking the breath out of her lungs. Still, Annabeth scrambled to her feet before Clarisse could get too close and swiped in with her knife, forcing her back._

_The red glow suddenly clicked in Annabeth’s mind - a blessing from Ares. Clarisse was imbued with her father’s strength, and she seemed dead set on Annabeth alone._

_“You can’t win this, Clarisse!” She shouted over the clashing of their weapons. “Not without him! The prophecy-”_

_“Fuck the prophecy! You fucking betrayed us! Everyone can wet their fucking panties over precious Annabeth and her poor tragic little life and her oh-so-amazing battle strategy but fuck that, at least us Ares kids have some fucking backbone. War is about sticking to your guns, not fucking switching sides at the first sign of danger. I always knew you were a fucking coward, Chase.”_

_It was embarrassing how quickly Clarisse had struck a nerve. Annabeth tried to keep her guard up, but the weight of the words had knocked her for six and before she knew it, the spear was driving closer and closer under Clarisse’s furious gaze._

_The first sensation was a white-hot burning, a horrible tingling that radiated instantly from Annabeth’s shoulder and throughout her whole body. Numbly, in the back of her mind, she realised the spear was still charged, as her muscles clenched and stiffened from the shock. Once Clarisse pulled her weapon back, satisfied, the second wave of heat rolled in, concentrated right between her shoulder and collarbone, just underneath her armour._

_Annabeth dry-heaved and tried to scream out for help, her voice failing her as the pain worsened. Clarisse looked down on her with a disgusted expression and shook her head._

_“Whether we win this battle or not, Chase… I’d hate to be you.” She spat. For good measure, she disarmed Annabeth and shoved her to the ground, before sprinting back into the battle as if nothing had happened._

_The pain was blinding, amplifying everything terrifying about the scene of a battle - everything was louder, closer, more dangerous. She tried again and again to call for help, sometimes managing a cry, sometimes only a hoarse scream. As a familiar figure drew closer, she summoned as much as her waning strength that remained and screamed out his name._

_“Luke!”_

_But the eyes were gold, and if they flickered to blue, Annabeth was in too much agony to tell. The Titan Lord simply advanced past her, leaving her on the ground._

Annabeth blinked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Eventually I realised he wasn’t gonna come to my rescue anytime soon. I ended up kicking off a shoe, ripping off one of my socks and using it to put pressure on the wound as best as I could until I passed out about ten minutes later. I woke up back at the base with some random demigods bandaging my shoulder and giving me some ambrosia. Luke was hardly ever Luke during that fight, it was always Kronos. He sure as hell didn’t heroically save me.”

Lacy looked outraged. “What a dick! He was just gonna let you die?”

Annabeth bit her tongue. “Lace. If I told you in confidence that there was a way out of here, and all you had to do was follow me instead of him and join a resistance to end this once and for all, would you do it?”

It wasn’t the best pitch in the world, but Annabeth was hardly thinking straight. Her memory was in overdrive, and all attempts at eloquence failed her.

“Yes. I would.” She stated firmly. “I can’t believe he did that to you. I don’t even-”

“Listen to me, carefully.” Annabeth stressed. “I need you to spread this, but quietly. Only to people you trust, and that you _know_ are unsatisfied or regretful. Don’t let anyone who’s loyal to Luke or Kronos know or overhear, got it?”

She nodded. “You really do love him. Percy Jackson.”

Annabeth faltered. “I have to go, Lacy. I need to spread the word, too. I’m counting on you.”

“I know.” She paused, picking up her pencil to resume drawing. “I’d do anything for love, it’s in my nature. Good luck.”

-

Many conversations passed in the same vein - demigods given their opportunities to vent frustrations and regrets, and presented with the alternative. As much as she knew it was her hubris talking, Annabeth still allowed herself to feel a little bit of pride in herself. These people _respected_ her, and trusted her, and followed her judgement with what seemed to be a healthy amount of questioning. She’d taken her time, in the last five years, to get to know the people around her and making friends and allies, and her efforts were being repaid right when she needed them.

Guilt was a common theme amongst those that had crossed sides; from those who had been found before ever finding camp, the sons and daughters of minor deities, they expressed disappointment from their expectations and a desire to reverse it all. There were some that Annabeth knew to steer clear from, ones who reminded her of Luke and still harboured a hatred for what the world had done to them beforehand, but everyone that she had on her list had trusted her and agreed to the cause.

Almost every night, she visited Percy. It was almost too easy, after a while. On the nights that she slept alone, in her own room rather than Luke’s (which was, thankfully, almost all of them - he had others to take care of his needs usually), all she had to do was grab her invisibility cap, creep out, and then slip in and out of the cell during the guard changeovers, so no one would notice the walls opening by themselves. With Luke, she would wait until he fell asleep and then do the same, silent as the grave, holding her breath until she saw Percy’s face again.

They talked about the plan, the resistance, the numbers. They talked about battle strategies and predictions and supplies. They talked about home, and friends, and life as they had once known it.

“Tomorrow night.” Was Annabeth’s greeting as soon as the walls closed behind her. She took off her cap, shaking out her hair, as Percy blinked at her.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night.” She confirmed. “I’m not staying here long, okay? I’m gonna fill you in on the plan and then get out, and you won’t see me again until we leave this place for good.”

Percy’s eyes softened. “We’re really doing this, huh. We’re really getting out of here.”

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “We’re leaving at midnight tomorrow night. The guards change their shifts over at five minutes before midnight, as you know, which is the window of time that I’m gonna sneak in here using my cap. They’ll check in on you, as always, at exactly midnight, see you asleep, and they won’t check again until seven in the morning, which you also know.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know that, I’m usually still asleep. Also, I don’t have a clock in here. Time just goes as it pleases.”

“Good point.” Annabeth conceded. “Anyway, seven. By that time, we’ll be long gone, so when they raise the alarm for you, we’ll have had a seven hour head-start. They probably won’t realise I’m missing until they come looking for me to inform us about you disappearing. Except… they won’t think I’m missing until far later than that.”

Percy laughed, his eyes crinkling and his grin stupidly lopsided. He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head as he chuckled. “Oh, no. You have that mischievous thinking look. You’re really proud of whatever you’re about to tell me.”

“I do _not_ have a mischievous thinking look!”

“Oh, you _so_ do.” Percy teased. “There’s the normal thinking look, which is cute, the uncertain one, and then _this_ one, which reads as, _I’m a fucking genius._ They’re all cute, actually, but very distinguishable.”

Annabeth waved him away, hoping her laugh would disguise the rosy colouring on her cheeks. “Shut _up_ Jackson. Anyway, I _am_ proud of this. We have a few Aphrodite and a few Hecate kids joining the team, and they’re gonna cause a little chaos by _swearing_ they’ve seen me. A little bit of well-placed gossip and some Mist manipulation should keep things pretty muddy until afternoon at least, by which time they might start to suspect that you and I are working together. But that’s unimportant, because I’ll be up to date with all of their moves thanks to my connections here.”

She spread her arms, and Percy responded with a polite applause, his expression nothing but light. “Gods, Annabeth. Do you ever stop being amazing?”

_You bring out the best in me_ , her tongue tried to say, but her throat shut off. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Percy. When we’re finally free.”

There were a couple of extra things to the plan that Annabeth neglected to tell Percy, mainly because they’d happen before she came to his cell, and therefore it wasn’t crucial for him to know any of it. At least, that was what she told herself.

-

At nine at night, Annabeth psyched herself up for what felt like the millionth time, and knocked once again on the heavy wooden door, the small beam of light coming from underneath telling her he was still in there. While she waited, she adjusted her robe over her chest, fiddling with the ties around her waist, feeling like a kid playing dress up.

She tried not to dwell too much on what she was doing, but she felt silly more than anything, the undercurrent of disgust tainting it. Here she was, waiting to be let in to the study, praying she’d find Luke instead of Kronos, all dressed up - or down, she supposed - in her underwear and a partially sheer black robe. _You are twenty years old_ , she reminded herself. _People do this all the time. Pull yourself together._

The door opened, and Annabeth stepped in. Luke looked up - his eyes were blue, so it was him - and regarded her appraisingly. 

“You look nice.”

Annabeth shrugged. “You’ve been holed up in this little room all day. Have you even eaten anything?”

He beckoned her closer. “I had dinner. Why’d you get all pretty, little bug?”

_Little bug._ Annabeth had never stopped to consider how weird it was that Luke still referred to her by nicknames she’d earned when she was seven.

“Thought you could use a little relaxation,” She purred, once again settling herself in his lap. She straddled him so they could sit face to face and wrapped her hands gently around his neck, her fingers softly stroking the bottom part of his hair. “You work so hard, Luke. Keeping this whole place going. We’d be nothing without you.”

She nipped at his ear as his hands slid around her waist. “Mhm, you’re very appreciative tonight. How could I say no?”

“Why would you want to?”

He guided her lips towards his, grasping her chin to pull her in for a kiss. For the first time, Annabeth noted just how sour he tasted, the undeniable sense of _wrong_ colouring the whole embrace. Luke and Annabeth had never been right, not really. It was her childish crush, a weak candle long burnt out, and she’d spent years pretending the smoke curling from the wick was a sign that the flame was still burning rather than an admission of defeat.

“Not here,” She breathed, her nails scraping the back of his neck. “Don’t I at least deserve a bedroom?”

“Oh, I see…” Luke teased, lifting her up entirely and rising from his seat. He was strong enough to carry her, and she wrapped her legs around him, forcing a sweet smile. “Well, your wish is my command.”

-

He fell asleep at around ten thirty. Annabeth lay next to him, her heart pounding, until eleven, just to be sure. Once she was certain he was dead to the world, she crept out of bed, into her own room, and changed.

She needed to be quick, but as always, she’d prepared ahead. Her bag was stuffed with ambrosia and nectar, spare weapons, a few changes of clothes and other essentials. Her knife was strapped to her hip and covered with her long coat, dressed warm to combat the cold night. She tied her hair back and, with one final glance in the mirror, put on her cap and disappeared.

With the bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way towards the cells. The exterior was guarded by a couple of demigods who were on Annabeth’s side - she quickly lifted her hat, nodded to them, and slipped through inside. The further inside she went, where the more important prisoners were kept, the guards were extremely faithful to Luke, so she made sure to remain both invisible and silent, just in case.

When she came to the very end, approaching the room before Percy’s cell, Annabeth flattened herself against the wall and held her breath, careful not to make a sound as she waited for the changeover to begin. In the meantime, the two guards stood against the wall conversing, heavily armoured with their swords glinting in the darkness.

“What do you think Luke’s gonna do with him?” One of them asked, nudging the other.

The other shrugged. “Maybe throw him into the arena and let some monsters have at it. Heard he’s a good fighter, would make for an interesting show. See how long he lasts and all that.”

They laughed at the idea. Annabeth herself held back a giggle, but for a wholly different reason. Clearly these two had never encountered Percy, if they thought Luke would try to use him for entertainment. Her mind jumped back to the labyrinth, and the frustration on Luke’s face as he defied orders, won battles, and defeated a son of Gaea completely of his own accord. It had felt good working against Luke, inconveniencing him, just ruining his carefully-laid plans. The truth was, when they were together, Luke had nothing on Percy and Annabeth.

He would probably try to kill Percy in some extravagant way and make an example of him, which was why she didn’t feel much like letting him hang around any longer in a cell than he had to. The sooner they got out, the sooner the both of them were free.

“You gotta feel for the guy. He was hot shit for years, disappeared and missed all the action, and then rocks up almost dead on a river bank and gets immediately imprisoned. That’s gotta suck.”

One of them snorted. “Right. Weren’t you part of the group that found him? Was he really almost dead?”

“Yeah, dude. I was in charge of patrol that day.” He puffed up his chest proudly. “Saw someone floating face down in the river, got the guys to pull them out and it was him. Clothes all tattered and torn, he was a complete wreck. Half drowned, too.”

“Nice. Good to know his precious gods couldn’t save him after all, huh?”

Annabeth bit her lip and held back her laughter again. _This_ was who Luke trusted above many others, some of his strongest and wisest? These two didn’t even know _the son of Poseidon_ could _breathe underwater_. Perhaps Percy’s acting was convincing enough, but she knew perfectly well that _half drowned_ was a lie or an oversight. There was no way Luke would’ve fallen for that - they probably neglected to tell him.

One of them looked at their watch. “Oop, that’s time. I’m going to bed, I’ve been up for like sixteen hours.”

The other hesitated momentarily. “Shouldn’t we wait for the others to get here?”

Annabeth cursed under her breath. They needed to get going, now, or she’d lose her window of opportunity to get into the cell and the whole plan would go up in smoke. The emergency extra plan was that she’d take out the two guards as quickly as she could - she knew she was more than capable - and then bust out with Percy as fast as possible, but that meant having to kiss goodbye to the secrecy of the plan as a whole. She silently willed them to stop stalling and move.

“Man, we’ll probably bump into them in the hallway. They’re always on time. Give yourself a break.”

There was a pause in which he seemed to think about it. For Annabeth, it was like an eternity, precious seconds slipping away from her as they idly chatted. She drummed her fingers against the wall, impatient and nervous.

“I don’t know, dude. If Luke finds out we’re cutting it-”

“He won’t find out!”

“He might!”

As the argument ensued, Annabeth’s heart pounded. Any minute now, the next set of guards would turn up, and if they came before the others left, she was completely fucked. She looked around desperately, wondering how she was going to be able to do this, when she zeroed in on the broken cobbles beneath her feet. Luke had wanted her to design dungeons in the style of an ancient castle, which she’d gladly done, but the usual wear and tear of demigods fighting and clashing armour had broken and loosened a lot of chunks of stone. Without thinking too much about it, she picked one up and threw it down the long hallway, aiming for the wall on the far side. She hit her target and winced as it clattered, pinging off the doorway and halting the argument.

The reluctant guard turned, and for one terrifying moment, seemed to look directly at Annabeth. He frowned and quickly looked down the hall, confused, and she breathed a sigh of relief that her cap hadn’t suddenly, magically failed.

“Man, that’s probably them. Come on, we can go.” The other badgered.

“Fine, you’re right. I could use a nap.” He agreed, and the two of them began to walk off down the long hallway.

As soon as they were just out of sight, Annabeth dashed towards their empty posts, her heart racing, and pressed her hand against the wall to unlock the cell. The wall slowly moved apart, the lack of speed agonising in her hurry, and she slipped inside as soon as the gap was even remotely big enough to fit through. Adrenaline pumped through every part of her, her body seemingly running on that over her blood.

The walls closed behind her. Annabeth took off her cap and tried to slow her breathing, to no avail, as she leant against the wall adjacent to the entrance.

“Made it.” She announced, trying to catch her breath. “That was tight, almost missed it because the fucking guards wouldn’t stop talking.”

Percy chuckled, prompting Annabeth to properly look at him - a fatal mistake.

He’d clearly taken to heart every detail of the plan, and in an effort to look completely off his guard and fast asleep, he’d taken off his shirt and balled it up under his head to use as a pillow, feigning sleep for when they poked their heads in to check on him. He lay on his back, head tilted sideways to look at her, one hand lazily resting on his stomach, drawing her attention to the smooth skin and lean muscle there. Annabeth almost felt compelled to look away, blushing, but forced herself to look past his handsomeness.

“Anything interesting?”

She fanned herself with the cap, grinning. “Nah. Just speculation on how they’re gonna whore you out once they decide what to do with you. I was tempted to weigh in, honestly.”

He laughed. “I hate you so much. _Whore me out?_ What, five dollars for an hour?”

“ _That’s_ your going rate? Gods, Perce, you’re cheaper than I thought. Have some self-respect, up your price.”

Percy’s face screwed right up when he laughed; his eyes disappeared into happy creases, his nose flattened and wrinkled, his grin lopsided and infectious, the dimples highlighting his joy. It was such a simple sight and yet Annabeth was fascinated by it, struck with a desire to stand there and watch him laugh until the end of her days.

He shook his curls out of his face and smiled brightly at her. “Beth, this is it. We’re doing this, for real.”

Annabeth swallowed her nerves. “Any minute now.”

She pressed her finger to her lips and put on her cap, vanishing from sight, and then held her breath. Percy settled into a comfortable position and closed his eyes, letting his mouth fall open slightly to convincingly appear fast asleep. Annabeth resisted the urge to tell him to start drooling, only because she heard the familiar rumbling of the wall opening a little way behind her.

The new set of guards did exactly as she expected - stepped inside, quickly darted their eyes around to see the cell was empty, spent a couple of moments observing Percy’s sleep, then left. As soon as they were gone, Percy sprang to his feet, practically vibrating with excitement, and grabbed the cell bars.

“Lemme out! Free me!” He begged, doing his best to try and rattle the bars. Annabeth quickly ran forwards, taking the key from her pocket. She made quick work of opening the cell and unlocking Percy’s restraints, elated by the beginning of their success, and met Percy’s enthusiasm with a grin of her own.

“All that’s left for me to do is get us out of this room and then it’s over to you,” She said quietly, stuffing the cell keys into her bag as Percy re-dressed. “You ready for this?”

Percy nodded, the look in his eyes making her feel dizzy. “I can’t wait to get you home, Annabeth. You have no idea.”

“If they’ll have me, that is.”

He scoffed. “I’d like to see them try and reject you. Not happening, not on my watch. Anyway…” He paced the room, clearly pleased with his new freedom. “How exactly _are_ we getting out of this room? Y’know, with the guards on the other side of the only entrance and exit?”

“The only one, huh?” Annabeth stepped through the cell door, trying and failing to push down her pride. The entire back wall of the place was covered in scratches, grooves and cracks, a choice that she’d deliberately picked when designing the place. She’d told Luke it was mostly a stylistic choice, something demoralising for prisoners, an idea of many before them failing to escape. Really, it just disguised a little something she’d noticed at the beginning of the building’s modification, and hadn’t wanted to draw the wrong attention to.

As she touched it, the small delta sign glowed blue.

“No way. No-fucking-way.” Percy marvelled, staring at her.

Annabeth grinned as a passage opened up before them. “Yes way.”

“It’s just like the last time I saw you. Five years back in time.” 

His voice was gentle, careful not to bring back any memories that would prove too painful to dwell on. Annabeth thought about five years without him, and how she felt so much older than just five years since that moment, and if it was even possible that she could survive another five without him near her. She blinked and they were kids again, fifteen, caught up in the midst of a war and ancient discoveries that brought new and very real problems to the forefront. A moment of peace could’ve brought something between them, but the chaos meant they’d lost so much time. This was almost like a redo, another attempt, a second chance. 

Together.

“The labyrinth didn’t die with Daedalus’ death, it just doesn’t grow with his life force anymore. So it’s still here, partially destroyed in some places from the war, but overall intact. I can get us to near the outer bounds of the city walls in maybe five minutes, which is probably a couple of hours overhead. I managed to snag this from Luke’s desk earlier tonight.”

Her chest flared suddenly as she said his name, irrationally terrified she was going to give herself away, but quickly shoved it down and pulled out the ball of string from a pocket in her bag. 

Percy blinked at it. “String… Ariadne’s string? Gods, I forgot they even had that.”

“He doesn’t use it,” Annabeth shrugged. “Won’t even notice it’s gone. He says there’s no use for a system like that when we don’t have to operate in secrecy anymore.”

The distaste on Percy’s face said it all. “Gods, I hate that guy.”

Annabeth went quiet. “I think I do, too.”

An uncomfortable pause hung in the air. Loath to waste any more time in the enemy clutches, Percy cleared his throat and started towards the labyrinth entrance.

“No time like the present, huh? Let’s go home, Beth.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - super busy being a student lol, but here it is! Welcome to Bunker Nine, folks, where things are about to get interesting.
> 
> As always, I appreciate all comments! <3

It only took them five minutes, but it could have been five hours if the racing of Annabeth’s heart was anything to go off.

In one hand, she held Ariadne’s string and let it unravel, following passageways to lead them up to the surface somewhere in the city. They were completely cloaked in blackness, terrified, travelling in silence to ensure they didn’t miss any foreboding sounds that would suggest something was lurking. It had probably only been thirty seconds or so of walking before Annabeth realised she couldn’t hear footsteps behind her, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“Percy? _Percy!_ ” She called out, her voice an octave higher than usual. In a moment of clarity, she unsheathed her knife, the celestial bronze glowing and illuminating a brief section of the dark chamber. To her relief, it cast a small amount of light onto Percy, just behind her.

“Sorry, sorry,” He repeated profusely, “I’m sorry, I’m here, it’s okay-”

“It’s fine,” She breathed, her voice dropping to a whisper in an effort to make sure nothing else heard them. “Just- take my hand, okay? So I know you’re with me.”

Percy nodded. “Of course.”

Annabeth tucked away her knife as Percy drew Riptide with his free hand, his other slotting into hers perfectly. The light was reassuring, but nowhere near as much as the feel of their hands entwined, tightly clasping onto one another even beyond the promise of safety. Determined not to distract herself, however, she forced herself to focus and, after allowing herself the indulgence of squeezing his hand in response to his own silent signals, she turned her attention to the labyrinth. 

Around them, in what had previously been dark, the walls had seemingly changed into a dull metallic grey, scratched and scraped and cheaply painted. This was a good sign, she knew, and forged ahead, taking the right lane of a fork as she followed the oncoming of graffiti, stickers and old flyers. Percy seemed to realise what was happening around them, and lifted his sword in an arc around them to illuminate more of the area.

“Wait… is this taking us up to a Subway station?” He asked, incredulous. “Of course the labyrinth and the subway are connected. Makes total sense.”

Annabeth turned her head to smile at him. “Every navigation system in the world is connected to or rooted within the labyrinth. The tube in London, for example. It’s pretty cool.”

“Okay, nerd. Hitting me with the facts.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annabeth laughed. “I think this is it, stop clowning for five seconds. I don’t know what it’ll be like when we get up there, monster-wise, so just keep your guard up, okay?”

Percy lifted his sword again. “Gotcha. So we kick some ass, monster situation depending, and then I’ll work out where we are and get us home. Sounds fun and risk-free.”

“I’ve often found betraying a Titan Lord to be fun and risk-free,” Annabeth agreed, grinning. “Here goes.”

They stopped in front of a rusted iron door, plastered with layer after layer of gig flyers and events that had long since passed without any interest. The handle was a little tough, but Annabeth managed to wrench it open, almost knocking Percy to the ground with the force of it, until it revealed a creaking metal stairway leading maybe twenty feet above them. Their hands remained clasped despite exiting the labyrinth, which she told herself was probably only because he had forgotten they were still entwined, or for the sake of staying together. There was nothing else to it.

The first thing she noted about the subway tunnel was that it was eerily empty, silent, and dark. It almost felt like an extension of the labyrinth itself.

Percy tugged her just around a corner, where what felt like a pillar stood in front of them. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but before long, an ambient buzzing sound preceded the flickering of a few jarringly white lights overhead, just enough to light up the tunnel and its exits in a harshly bright tone.

“Oh… Oh I don’t like this one bit.” He said, seemingly under his breath.

The station was deserted, and nature had waged its war on the unnatural world in the past five years. Dark vines crawled through gaps in the ceiling and spread across the walls, where remnants of old timetables and safety announcements and posters were faded and obscured. The bright light cast long, sharp shadows, each bulb muffled with the layers of dust and cobwebs coating them. Aside from that, nothing moved. Newspapers lay trodden and disintegrating underfoot, but everything was still and silent.

Percy’s voice got louder. “What the hell did they do to my city? I haven’t been this far out, I haven’t seen beyond the base yet. What the _fuck_ did they do to my city?!”

Annabeth’s stomach twisted with guilt.

“I mean, huh? Do the mortals not use the subway anymore? Are they even-”

He stopped, looking to her for answers. Annabeth let go of his hand.

“They all evacuated. Freak natural disaster that rendered the whole city unlivable.” She swallowed, elaborating when his stare didn’t falter. “At least, so they think. It takes a long time to take over the world, especially when you get convinced by me to try and do it without the mortals noticing so that they don’t rise up and act against it. I like to think I delayed the end of the world as we know it by at least a good few decades. Titans are immortal, after all. They can wait.”

Percy bit his lip, hesitating over his words. She willed his expression to soften, for the intensity burning in his green eyes to die down a little, but it didn’t. He could forgive her for almost anything, but the idea of his home being abandoned and destroyed in his absence touched him a little too deeply to let it go straight away. Nevertheless, he smiled bravely - stupid, stupid, stupidly kind-hearted man - and let out a breath.

“I just hope my mom is safe.”

“She’s out of state, somewhere. I think she knew - she knew to run.”

With the mood entirely soured, they headed towards the steps, shut off the lights, and began climbing up and out of the subway tunnel into the city. It was impossible to gauge what time it was beyond night, the city cloaked in a heavy blackness and sorely lacking the usual city lights. Annabeth didn’t ever venture this far out, and it was weird to not see the cars, the billboards, even shop signs illuminating the place. New York was dark, and the city was finally sleeping.

“I don’t like this at all.” Percy murmured.

He stood tall, surveying the streets as best as he could in the darkness. Annabeth reached for her flashlight and handed it to him, and as she did so, the overwhelming urge to apologise seized her.

“I’m sorry. Some of this is my fault, and I just-”

“Stop it.” Percy cut her off. “I don’t want us to be all resentful, you know? You did what you had to do to stay safe and minimise damage. Plus, you got me out of there and now we’re gonna set things right.” _Or die trying_ lingered on his tongue, but he didn’t vocalise it. “I don’t hate you. Don’t hate yourself.”

He clicked the flashlight on, the beam alarmingly out of place in such uninterrupted stillness. Much like the subway, it was eerie how the lack of people had changed things, nature and litter at odds with one another, everything overgrown and overflowing. Some shop windows were smashed, looted, or just left in a state of complete disrepair. Annabeth noticed a dented bronze helmet lying amongst a pile of weeds and quickly looked away, glad Percy hadn’t seen it.

They looked around quietly as he darted the flashlight around, illuminating random details of the area. After a few moments, he spoke again.

“Oh my gods, I know where we are. This is perfect. I can get us back to the base before daylight, probably.”

Annabeth perked up. “That’s amazing! Okay, let’s get going. I don’t wanna waste any time, just in case.”

Percy nodded, wandering towards the abandoned vehicles parked up on the empty streets. Most people had fled New York without bringing too much with them, desperate to get out as soon as possible given the ruin that the so-called natural disaster had promised. For the first time in her life, as the war grew closer, Annabeth had seen more buses full of people and flights leaving than yellow cabs in the city. Her chest ached uncomfortably at the thought of the minute few who had elected to stay behind despite the warnings, and all the vehicles that would never be used again.

“Aha!” He called out suddenly, shining his flashlight a little way behind them. “Look, scooter! I don’t imagine anyone’s using it, I’m sure they won’t mind if we borrow it for a good cause.”

“Ask, just in case. Be polite,” Annabeth reprimanded him with a smile on her face.

Percy grinned. “ _Can I borrow your scooter, man?_ ” He yelled at the sky, shrugging as if he’d heard a response. “Yeah, they’re cool.”

“Do you know how to ride a scooter?”

“How hard can it be?”

Percy grinned - sarcastic, troublemaker, adventurous. He was all dark skin and cheek dimples and even in the uncertain night, an anchor to reality.

-

Surprisingly, Percy’s driving was just fine. He sped through the streets with little to no thought, no speed limits or traffic stops necessary, just dodging the occasional abandoned cab or fallen debris. Annabeth sat behind him, her eyes screwed shut against the wind, her arms wrapped around his waist. She pressed her face into his back, the city disappearing behind them, and took advantage of the deafening rush of air to tell him over and over and over how sorry she was. He didn’t hear it, he didn’t need to. But she needed it to leave her system before it killed her.

They came to a stop amongst a block of apartments and stores just like every other in the city, pulling over next to yet another line of parked vehicles. Percy climbed off and sighed, looking around for a few moments in thought.

“This is fine.” He said, seemingly to himself. “I think we should leave it here. If we walk the rest of the way, there’s nothing to trail us close to the base, so no one will find us if they come looking.”

Annabeth nodded. “I doubt they’ll even know where to look anyway. As far as they know, there’s no one alive out here.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” He bumped her side as they started walking, the flashlight casting long shadows of their figures into the empty street. For a little while, they navigated the edge of the city in a comfortable silence, treading lesser known streets and slowly transitioning from blocks and blocks of grey concrete into grassy fields and banks. The area seemed familiar, but too foreign and strange to connect to any memories.

After five minutes or so of walking, Percy snorted a quiet laugh. “You’re short.”

“Excuse me?”

“Last time I saw you, you were much taller. You’re short now.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me.”

She blinked. “What- it’s dark, there’s no way you saw that!”

“I just knew you did it!” Percy defended himself. “And besides, you just admitted it. You rolled your eyes at me, which is both hurtful and offensive.”

Annabeth laughed, playfully smacking his side. “I rolled my eyes because you really went straight to assuming I _shrunk_ instead of you growing?”

“There’s no way I could’ve grown that much,” Percy replied instantly, repressed laughter underpinning his voice. “Could I? You were taller than me.”

“When we were _fifteen!_ ” She shrieked, giggling and clinging to his wrist for support. “I’m five nine, you gotta be at least six foot by now.”

“Haha, sucks to be you. What’s the view like down there?”

“Too dark to see shit,” Annabeth stuck her tongue out, despite knowing he couldn’t see it.

Percy laughed. “Not too different from me, then. I always knew we had stuff in common.”

Before they knew it, the night began slipping away into early hours of the morning, feeble light filling the sky and allowing them to see a little better. The sky was a faded mauve, the trees a black silhouette against the horizon, and once again the feeling of familiarity tugged at Annabeth’s gut, this time painfully sharp. Her surroundings seemed to click into place all at once, and her chest flared up with worry.

“Are you sure you haven’t taken a wrong turn?” She cautioned, sounding much calmer than she felt. “There’s nothing beyond this point.”

Percy seemed undeterred. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Annabeth grabbed Percy’s arm, stopping him from walking ahead. The lump in her throat prevented her from speaking for a few seconds, just long enough that his features creased in concern, every part of her softening around her. He clasped his hand over hers and frowned gently, wordlessly communicating his support for her. Support she didn’t deserve.

“Percy, there’s nothing here. I promise you.”

He squeezed her hand three times. “What makes you say that?”

She made a frustrated noise, pulling away from him and fidgeting instead, trying to ignore the way his expression faltered when she moved. Her hands were everywhere - in her curls, hugging her arms, fingers clicking and stretching as if they had a mind of their own. There was so much she needed to say, _needed_ to tell him, but the thought of breaking his heart like that was too much to bear. Seeing New York destroyed and empty had hurt him enough; Camp Half Blood would annihilate him.

“Gods, I - it was burned to the ground, okay!” She shrieked, hating herself with every word. “The barrier was shattered, the monsters and Titan army flooded in, everything was destroyed and then burnt. There’s nothing left. He- He even fucking salted the earth and made me watch. He said he wouldn’t let the gods’ dumping ground haunt us anymore.”

Percy’s fists clenched. “He made you _watch?_ That sick bastard,” He sighed, covering his face with his hand for a few seconds to regain his composure. “I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t realise taking you here would hurt so much. I should’ve warned you.”

Annabeth laughed mirthlessly, a noise of disbelief inadvertently making its way out. “ _You’re_ sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m the one who should be sorry. I could’ve tried to stop this, hell, I should’ve gone down in the fight against him, at least that would be an honourable way to go. I let him destroy our home.”

“Some of it.”

“What? I saw it myself. They were smashing cabins, crumbling everything.”

“Not everything.” Percy smiled - that smile that made Annabeth’s heart dare to swell again. “The camp’s been around for hundreds of years, there’s secrets even Luke didn’t know about it. Can’t destroy something you never found.”

And there it was: Hope. The last spirit in the cursed jar, the one that vowed to never leave humanity so long as humanity didn’t let it go. Hope, faith, slowly beginning to renew itself again, a glimmer of promise in the near future. Annabeth reached out to reclaim Percy’s hand in her own, her heart beating at a mile a minute.

“Feels weird to be telling you something you don’t know, to be honest,” Percy grinned, veering them off the road and into the surrounding woodlands. “Usually it’s you screaming information at me as we’re in the heat of the battle with some monster I’ve never seen in my life.”

Annabeth chuckled. “Only because you always refused to sit and study Ancient Greek with me, plus I’ve been hyper-fixated on it since I was like seven.”

“How very Athena of you.”

She snorted and bumped into him gently. “Whatever. So, tell me about whatever Luke missed? Are we far away?”

“Not too far,” He shrugged, dodging around trees in an effort to keep their hands linked. “Just keep your eyes open for limestone. Or your ears open for mischievous voices.”

“ _Okay…_ ” She replied slowly, deliberately injecting scepticism into her voice to make him laugh. “And this isn’t the elaborate murder plan? You tell me to look for limestone and then stab me? Like George and Lennie talking about the rabbits in Of Mice and Men?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Annabeth. Please,” He scoffed, “You gotta know I didn’t read that book.”

“Weird part of the sentence to deny.” She muttered, giggling in spite of herself. “Hey, I didn’t read it either. I bullshitted my book report on Sparknotes and watched the movie in seventh grade.”

It was so easy to talk to him, so easy that Annabeth lapsed into bouts of forgetting how much guilt weighed on her. For the first time in years, she was about to face people who she had flat-out betrayed, and yet with Percy, she almost felt as if everything was fine. As long as he was there, their resentment couldn’t touch her. Because _he_ had forgiven her.

He was all that mattered.

“Aha!” He called out suddenly, as the familiar orange glow of flames loomed close by. “I knew I hadn’t gotten us lost!”

Annabeth thumped his hip with the back of her hand. “Seaweed Brain! You thought you got us lost and didn’t tell me?!”

“What you didn’t know wasn’t gonna hurt you!” He defended himself, raising his hands as a sign of innocence and pulling her arm up with his. “Anyway, we’re here. You ready for this?”

“Not at all,” She breathed, smiling up at him. “Not in the slightest.”

“That’s my girl,” Percy beamed, Annabeth bowing her head to hide her blush. “Let’s do this. Hey, guys!”

The woodland they’d been trudging through started opening out into a small clearing, the trees thinning as the limestone cliff blocked their way. Mounted on the wall, about ten or so feet apart, two flaming torches lit an otherwise unremarkable section of the cliff face, where two armoured guards were positioned. They waved in response to Percy’s greeting, and began to take off their helmets.

“Hey, good to have you back, man!” Travis Stoll clapped Percy on the back, his curly brown hair and crooked smile unchanged after everything. Next to him, still struggling with his own helmet, a voice that was presumably Connor’s let out a muffled yell of “A little help!” before the bronze finally gave way.

Immediately, his eyes darted down to their entwined hands, which they quickly separated, and then grinned. Then, after a moment of decidedly blatant staring, he whistled.

“Damn, Annabeth. Titans treated you well!” Connor exclaimed.

Next to her, Percy scowled. Annabeth frowned in confusion and offered, “Um, thank you?” as a response.

Travis whacked his brother on the arm. “Dude! She’s not into you, she’s holding hands with fuckin’ golden boy over here! Let it go, man, she’s clearly into him and not you!”

“Alright,” Annabeth placated, entirely lost as to everything that was happening around her. “Let’s not go reading into every little thing, okay? Uh, Percy, care to explain what’s going on?”

Percy relaxed a little. “Annabeth, welcome to Bunker Nine!”

She blinked. “And… where’s the bunker?”

He gestured between the two torches. She blinked again.

“That… is a rock. Am I missing something?”

Percy turned to Connor. “Well it is now, just watch. Stoll?”

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me, man. This is just a cliff. Annabeth, this guy’s crazy, right?” He added conspiratorially, doing a poor job at concealing his words with the side of his hand. Percy rolled his eyes and then, after a moment, straightened up and looked Connor dead in the eyes.

“I can, and will, make the sweat on your back roll up instead of down.”

His bizarre threat worked immediately - Connor cringed and made several loud, retching noises, shivering in horror, before digging into his bag and cursing to himself. Annabeth briefly wondered if that was something Percy had done to him before, given how oddly specific it seemed, but since she was reluctant to spend much time contemplating an old friend’s back sweat, she shook the thought from her mind and focused on the Stolls.

Connor had produced a can of hairspray from his backpack - Medusa’s Secret, with a little cartoon gorgon as the logo, sporting a perfectly slick beehive hairdo made entirely from snakes. The tagline promised to keep hair as stiff and solid as one of Medusa’s famed statues. Travis, meanwhile, had unhooked one of the flaming torches from the wall and was wielding it with a dangerously lax attitude.

“This is gonna blow your mind,” He promised, waving the flames about. “Connor, spray!”

The hairspray made connection with the fire and a terrifying makeshift flamethrower started torching the cliff face. As it did so, the rock started to rumble and crack, splitting into two halves that slowly separated into a twelve foot gap leading inside. Annabeth gaped at it in utter disbelief. 

“How’s that for a bunker?” Percy grinned.

Travis coughed, his eyes wide. “We’re the ones who did the stunt and you get to take credit? You get to steal our moment?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Travis. I’m trying to blow her mind.”

“So that she’ll b-”

Perhaps wisely, Travis shoved his fist in his brother’s mouth, preventing Connor from whatever he was about to traumatise them with. The pair grinned matching faux-innocent smiles and gestured inside, standing tall like proud butlers. The act was clearly rehearsed, which made Annabeth realise just how much she’d missed their ridiculous antics. 

“Gods…” She muttered, staring ahead of her with her mind working at a mile a minute. “This is some engineering ingenuity… whoever designed this place was seriously clever. I’m guessing nine for Cabin Nine, Hephaestus, right? I gotta see the blueprints on this thing.” 

Percy laughed. “If you can find them, sure. This place is filled with project ideas. Beckendorf says it’d take centuries to create everything that’s been sketched out.”

“I hope so,” Annabeth replied dreamily. It couldn’t have been more perfect - a feat of engineering, an architectural wonder, and entirely hidden from the Titans. Hell, there was no way Luke could even stumble upon this place by accident, even if he did decide to visit his old home. They were completely secluded from the outside world. 

Just as they started to head inside, Connor caught Annabeth’s arm, an awkward look on his face. She stopped to look at him. 

“I just - just a head’s up, Annabeth. A lot of us are gonna be super happy you’re back, but also… some people, not so much. To tell you the truth, a lot of people are sceptical about this.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking to Travis to take over. 

He did. “Yeah. Not us, we were on board with it. But some people… Some people thought that the mission would be suicide. Percy would offer himself up as bait and then you wouldn’t even be there, or you’d kill him, or Luke would kill him and you’d stay where you are. No one really knows where you stand so there was a lot of doubt. I think everyone had a little bit of doubt.”

“Everyone except Percy.” Connor added. 

Annabeth felt sick. 

“Right.” Travis agreed. “We just wanted to warn you, you might not get the warmest welcome from everyone. Just give them time, I think most of them will come around eventually.”

She nodded. “Thanks. It’s my problem, don’t worry about it.”

Connor smiled gently. “Hey, it won’t be too bad. Silena came back and it’s like she never left. Everyone adores her now.”

“Remind me how long she was his right hand man again?” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself, regretting it as soon as his features twisted uncomfortably. “Sorry. It’s gonna be fine. It has to be, because there’s literally no going back now.”

With a final nod, she followed Percy inside. 

-

Bunker Nine turned out to be much larger than she’d initially expected. It was like a mixture of an aircraft hangar, an apocalyptic shelter and a workshop, the walls plated with metal, rock and concrete, tunnels extending out in all directions ultimately leading to the centre. As they walked, Percy explained how they’d added to it over time, the building effort led by Beckendorf, changing the space from its original secret workshop layout to a fully-fledged bunker, filled with small alcoves for bedrooms, a dining hall and a general meeting and common room. 

His voice was low as he led her around. “Don’t get used to this quiet, by the way, don’t let it fool you. From the second everyone wakes up, it’s nonstop chaos way into the night.”

“Just like home.” The words left her lips before she could think about retracting them, an unmistakable wistfulness underpinning her tone. Annabeth blushed and looked down, strangely ashamed to bring up Camp Half-Blood amongst its ruins, but Percy seemed to like the idea. He nodded and smiled, almost as if he was proud of her. 

“Yeah. Exactly like home.” 

As they walked, Annabeth noticed the occasional mechanism built into the walls - switch panels, buttons, levers of all kinds. Her curiosity spiked at each one she passed, but guessing that Percy probably didn’t know what they all did, she filed her questions away in hopes that someone more suited to them, perhaps one of the Hephaestus kids, would be able to explain. Even so, she couldn’t resist checking that he couldn’t tell her at least _something_.

“What’s with the buttons?”

“Privacy,” He answered. “I don’t know what most of this stuff does beyond protecting us, I guess, but the red buttons reveal the little alcoves that we sleep in. They’re tiny little rooms, cosy enough, and they can only be opened by the person who sleeps there. Avoids awkwardness, I think.”

He paused, then chuckled to himself. “You know, Beckendorf told me that when they first came here, and it was just the bunker itself, they had to sleep in the workshop in sleeping bags, literally head to toe filling the entire floor. Kinda like how the Hermes cabin used to be. And that’s why they extended it.”

Annabeth laughed quietly with him, her heart warmed at the image of all her friends packed in together like sardines. Part of her tried to flood the warm feeling with guilt, that it was her fault they had nowhere else to go and were left cramped hiding in a mountain, but another part, ever strengthening in Percy’s company, seemed intent on letting her enjoy something for once. Neither part seemed to win, and she let her smile fall from her face as it grew silent around them. 

Finally, he stopped. “Okay. This one’s yours, you just gotta press the button to open it up and it’ll register as you.”

At once eager and apprehensive to observe Beckendorf’s work in action, Annabeth pressed the button and waited. Within seconds, the metal before her seemed to slide apart, the interlocking pieces disconnecting and revealing the room behind it. It was built three steps down from the tunnel they were standing in, set into the ground, and the width of the room was just enough to fit the bed, entirely encompassed on three sides by the wall. Annabeth reckoned that if she sat perpendicular on her bed and extended her legs, her feet could touch the very wall that had just opened up before her. 

She stepped down and looked around her. The back wall, against which the bed lay, had a small handle jutting out that upon inspection, extended into a hovering desk, making as much use of the space as it could. She pushed the handle back into the wall and sat down, her eyes flickering to the ceiling. Tiny as the room was, it felt much bigger from the projection above, a perfect replica of the pale morning sky that she had just left behind, even edged with the same trees. 

Percy, still standing in the tunnel doorway, handed her a little remote that was sitting on a small shelf above the door. “Check it out,” He offered, looking up himself. “You can customise it.”

There seemed to be an endless array of options - a bright sunny day, an unending downpour, a perfect night sky, an autumn chill or a winter frost. 

“Mine’s like New York in summer,” Percy’s voice was soft. “Best time of the year. School’s out, the weather's nice, I can run to the bodega and buy candy that’s sitting next to rat poison. It’s a good feeling.”

Silence fell; it became obvious that now was his cue to leave, and Annabeth to settle for maybe three hours of fitful sleep before reintroducing herself to her former family. Something deep and instinctive inside her urged her to grab him, to stop him from leaving, to just bite the bullet and choke out the words asking him to stay. The only way in which her sleep might be free from prophetic nightmares would be if she could know he was there, his arm over her shoulders, the both of them safe. 

She also knew it was an impossibility - a pipe dream. 

Instead, she wordlessly opened her arms. Percy all but scooped her into his embrace, squeezing her tight enough that she could hide her face in his chest and feel less shame than openly crying in front of him. She blinked her tears away into the fabric of his shirt and allowed herself a moment of undeserved comfort in the hug. His lips were against the top of her head, and though he hadn’t quite kissed it, it was enough for her that he seemed to want to. A ghost of a kiss lingered between them, a deep desire hastened back by restraint and fear. Annabeth waited until her eyes were dry to pull out of the embrace, doing her best to put on a brave face. 

“I wondered if I was gonna see that expression today,” Percy commented softly. “It’s the one I’m most used to seeing on you. It’s okay to be worried.”

Annabeth refused to meet his eye. “What’s the point of masking your anxiety if people can just see through it?”

“They can’t,” He replied instantly, then caught himself. “Well, I can. But they can’t - see through it. I mean… I don’t know. I guess I… I know you? Or I did once… I used to know you.”

Realising he was scrambling, Percy stopped altogether and just hesitated in front of her, his hands awkwardly elevated like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. They soon found their place, one of them over hers and the other delicately cupping her jaw, his thumb lifting her chin and gently guiding her eye-line to his. His gaze was like the ocean - unreadable, unpredictable, yet endlessly soothing to stare into. Annabeth was close enough to count the spattering of freckles across his cheeks. 

“Uh, goodnight,” She blurted out, regretting it immediately as they stepped apart. She was certain that her cheeks were scarlet, and embarrassed by the knowledge alone, she felt herself blushing all the way to her ears, thanking anyone who might listen that it was dim enough that he might not notice. 

Percy cleared his throat and headed up the three steps into the tunnel. He turned and offered a weak “Goodnight, Annabeth,” before he’d pressed the exterior button and the walls shut him out. 

Annabeth collapsed back onto her bed and stared up at the sky.


End file.
